Alternate Circumstance
by Vincent-from-Zebulon
Summary: What if one event in the Smallville Universe was changed? How would Clark have grown up if his Grandfather had had an influence on his life? This fic will be heavily AU. Will eventually be Clois.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Alternate Circumstances

**Author:** Vincent-from-Zebulon

**Disclaimer:** I am not in any way affiliated with DC Comics, Smallville or anything else, I do not own the characters and am making no profit on this. The only thing I do own is THIS story which is mine.

**Rating:** The story moves between T (mostly) to M (for the occasional strong language and maybe romance if the fic goes that way).

**Premise**: What if Clark's grandfather hadn't died on December 22, 1980 (From the Smallville timeline) and instead had lived with Jonathon and Martha on the farm after the death of his wife Jessica? Furthermore, what if he'd gotten to meet and have an influence on his adoptive grandson. This is my take on what the Smallville universe could have been with just one tweak. So please, just bear with me as I work and see where this fic will go.

-Vince.

**October 7, 1989**

Hiram wasn't sure what made him give into his son's incessant pleading for him to move back onto the family farm after the death of his Jessica. In fact, he downright regretted it. Every inch of that farm carried painful reminders that she was gone, and every day that he woke up alone his heart broke just a little more. The elderly Kent patriarch insisted on helping around the farm and being there for his son through all the drama of trying to conceive a child.

"If anyone deserves to be parents, lord knows that it's those two."

Hiram Kent was sixty-five years old, and those words had left his lips at least once a week since he'd seen what Martha and Jonathon were like together. Currently, the two were at yet another doctor's appointment trying yet another test to see if all the other medical information was wrong. Being alone at the farm, the older man decided to try to catch up on mending the fences on the back forty (A job that Jonathon had told him repeatedly that he'd handle himself). Smiling a bit at the prospect of finally getting to make himself useful around the old homestead, he loaded his tools and some lumber into his old truck and glanced at the window and as normal now, saw that it was empty of his beautiful wife.

Shaking the despair that threatened to claw its way from the depths of his stomach, he cranked the car and began the drive to the border of his family's land. Every time he made the short trip a thrill of pride went through him. His Grandparents had settled this plot of land in 1871 and had operated the farm ever since. Parking next to a broken section of fencing, he looked around cautiously before pulling out a cigarette and lighting it up gratefully.

Martha and Jonathon were always on him about giving up smoking, so therefore he had to take his addiction "into the closet", so to speak. "God forbid a man enjoys a cigarette after a stressful day." Hiram groused as he set to work on mending the fence, humming a tune as he lost himself in the labor that he so loved.

However, fate had a different plan this day for Hiram Kent. As he lined a new board up to be nailed into place, he heard a roaring sound, almost like that of a twister coming down- and quickly fell to his chest and stomach as a rock whizzed through the space where his head had just been. The impact shook the earth beneath him and he couldn't help but be amazed as looked skyward and saw the cluster of rocks falling from the sky in haphazard directions.

Several more impacts jarred the field around Hiram, but none came as close as the previous one. "The goddamn sky's falling." The words were breathed with a sort of reverence as he stood up and let the cigarette drop from his mouth in astonishment. "Lord I hope and pray that Jonathon and Martha aren't caught up somewhere in all this." His voice seemed to shock him as he reassured himself that they were fine and sensible people who wouldn't get caught up in the mess of rocks falling from outer space. He had no idea how wrong he was.

Hiram tore his gaze from the sky as the last of the meteors disappeared on the horizon, turning it instead on the rock that had nearly taken his head a souvenir. Maybe he was getting sentimental in his old age, but he felt like he needed it for a kind of trophy for the day. A talisman was exactly what he needed, he thought as he climbed over the fence and into the crater. He couldn't help but be amazed at the large crater around the rock that was roughly the size of his head. He'd heard of these sorts of things before: Meteorites. Sometimes they had gems in them that people could sell and make a little pocket change. Maybe after he got it to the farm and broke it open he could do that.

Carefully reaching out and hesitantly patting it, Hiram made sure the chunk of rock was cool to the touch before wrapping his hands around it and picking it up, struggling for a moment before adjusting his grip and carrying it back to his truck. Forgetting about the fence for the foreseeable future, he loaded up his tools and took the winding road home, not knowing that in doing so he'd completely change the course of the future in just a few short months.

When he returned home he saw the damage on his son's pickup truck and immediately threw his own into park and rushed into the house, in full-panic mode as he frantically called their names, "Jonathon! Martha!" The house seemed oddly empty as he hollered again. After a tense moment, a voice responded. "Dad! We're upstairs, head to the kitchen and sit down. We have news!" Jonathon's voice echoed down the stairs and made the old man's face shift from that of a terrified father to a happy old man. His family was safe. "Alright son. I'm glad you're safe."

Hiram knew his son couldn't hear his reply, but he couldn't help it. He just had to voice his happiness that nothing had happened to what was left of his family. With a new lightness in his heart, he fixed the coffee maker and sat at his spot at the table that he and his father had made so long ago.

"Dad, we have someone we'd like you to meet."

The words brought a tingling sensation to the top of his spine. Hiram couldn't resist turning around to see both Jonathon and Martha grinning like fools at the boy holding onto Martha for all he was worth. "Your Grandson… Clark." Martha's voice sounded unsure, almost hesitant to tell him. He looked from her to his son and then to the boy that they had no doubt run across in the meteor shower. A variety of emotions had bubbled inside the Kent Patriarch: Pride, happiness, and finally doubt. What if someone claimed the boy was theirs?

Sensing the direction that his father was headed by the stare, Jonathon quickly interrupted as Hiram opened his mouth to ask the million dollar question (Little did he know, billion would've been the correct denotation) "Everything's being taken care of. The paperwork, adoption papers… Everything dad. He's ours." The smile on his son's face undid all of Hiram's doubts and fears of everything being legal.

"Then I only have to say congratulations on welcoming another member into the Kent fold. You will both be great parents."

The words made the young couple smile at one another and then their new son. After a moment's hesitation, Clark looked up at his grandfather and smiled. The Eldest Kent smiled and lowered his head to the child's level. "Welcome to the family son. I hope to do plenty of spoiling and maybe teach you a thing or two before my time here is through." The words held an odd power to them, like the promises in the days of old between knights and squires. The couple shivered as an unseen hand rushed down their collective spines.

Deciding to leave the new couple to work out the dynamics of how to rearrange the house, Hiram excused himself to head out to work with the mysterious piece of rock that had nearly beheaded him. His plans regarding the rock had changed now though. He'd turn it into a medallion for his new grandson, both as a welcoming gift and as a reminder that hard work can sometimes be the reward in itself. Picking up the source of his plans, he made his way to the workbench and grabbed a hammer and chisel to bust the space rock in half.

**December 24, 1989**

Nearly two and a half months since his grandson had appeared among the meteors and he hadn't ever seen a woman take to mothering as Martha Kent had. It was reassuring to see the woman with Clark. He was the apple of both his parent's hearts, and though he was never one for admitting his feelings, but the child had made his own special place in the old man's heart.

In fact, for the past few months he'd given up his jobs on the farm to Jonathon so that he could finish his grandson's present in time for Christmas. The meteor had not just had a single gem vein in it, but three: Green, red, and blue. As the blue was the most beautiful of the three, he set to separating it from the others and tossing the others into his grandfather's old toolbox. Maybe one year he'd do something with them, but for now he was focused on the blue.

The tenacity with which he'd worked with the stone surprised even him as he'd gradually grinded the rough edges away from the stone and chiseled it into the rough shape of a shield. He didn't know why, but the shape just fit. He wanted his grandson to be shielded from the evil in the world, and when he was grown and strong, he wanted him to be able to shield the ones he loved from harm. It was what he had wanted for Jonathon, and what he knew that his father had wanted from him.

Several times, he'd stopped work on it to head into town to have the local jeweler do things that he couldn't, such as put the fittings and smooth it to a sort of glass-like polish. He'd been almost happy to pay the man for the finished product, and he was notorious for his reluctance to part with money (But understandable for anyone else who'd grown up with him in the depression.).

Hiram returned home with a smile on his face and immediately went into the barn and to his work table to put the finishing touches on his grandson's new medallion. "The little tyke better enjoy this." His words echoed through the barn as he wrapped the present with the expertise that only a parent can manage.

Carefully making his way to the house with his box in hand, the elder Kent smiled at Martha as she waved him in from the window. She had insisted on making a big Christmas Eve dinner for Clark's first Christmas, and was signaling him that it was time to eat.

It was with a light heart that the old man made his way into the heart and slipped the present under the tree with the others. "Grampa!" The child's shout made him turn and a smile blossomed across his face as the youngster waddled his way to him, smiling goofily. "Clark, what are you doing?" He knelt down, ignoring the protests of his arthritic joints as he scooped up his grandson and carried him to the table with him.

The remainder of Christmas Eve passed with smiles aplenty and good cheer unrivaled since a Christmas years ago when Martha had come with Jonathon for the first time. All too soon it was time for bed and the family went their separate ways to their bedrooms. "Goodnight all. And a very merry Christmas!" Hiram's voice echoed as he laid himself to bed.

The next morning he opened his eyes to his grandson's excited face. _It's really amazing how quickly he's taken to life here_, Hiram thought as he rubbed his eyes and smiled. "Good morning scamp." He yawned and sat up, making his way downstairs with his grandson.

The rest of the family was downstairs gathered around the table, smiling as Clark led his grandfather to the table to eat a hearty breakfast before moving on to the presents under the tree. Taking his place, Hiram grinned at his son and daughter-in-law. "Merry Christmas." The words made them smile like fools as both their eyes immediately centered on their new son who was nestled between them.

Breakfast passed in amiable silence as the family of four basked in each other's company. Hiram couldn't help but to announce that he'd play Santa as breakfast was finished. The proclamation was met with three identical grins as everyone took places in the living room around the tree. "Let's see… Who gets the first present." The words were spoken with a smile as the Eldest Kent ran a hand through his hair and smiled at the three most important people in his life.

Pretending to feign ignorance of their anticipation, the elderly man passed out the presents in leisure before finally coming to his gift to his grandson. "And this one is something that I made myself." The announcement was made with a touch of pride. He couldn't help it. He'd always loved gifting others with his work. It'd always been a hell of a lot cheaper than a present too. For some odd reason, he'd always felt that the gift of his hard work was the most special thing he could give to someone.

Very soon, too soon Hiram would say, Clark was opening up the last of his presents- the medallion that he'd made with the help of Samuel Bretton, the Jeweler. Immediately Martha began gushing about the beauty of the stone and Jonathon smiled, shaking his head at his father's handiwork. Clark's smile as he rushed to his grandfather to have him put it on him made it all the more worth it to Hiram. He didn't know why, but he got the feeling that he was making history as he slipped the leather chord around his grandson's neck and tightened it so that it wouldn't slip off.

With the chord tight, he let the stone drop and for a moment when the light caught the meteor stone, he could have sworn that the stone glowed as it touched his grandson. But stones don't glow, least of all in Smallville. "I love you Clark." The words were spoken softly as he embraced his grandson and smiled at his son and daughter-in-law. Two months ago he was wishing that he was with his darling Jessica. Now, he thought she could wait a while longer while he drug his feet and spoiled his grandson rotten.

**A/N: The First chapter's down. Please review and let me know how you liked it? The whole story's not going to be from Grandpa Kent's perspective. In fact, my original plan was just to do a brief thing with him… It just kind of came out like that. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Alternate Circumstances

**Author:** Vincent-from-Zebulon

**Disclaimer:** I am not in any way affiliated with DC Comics, Smallville or anything else, I do not own the characters and am making no profit on this. The only thing I do own is THIS story which is mine.

**Rating:** The story moves between T (mostly) to M (for the occasional strong language and maybe romance if the fic goes that way).

**Premise**: What if Clark's grandfather hadn't died on December 22, 1980 (From the Smallville timeline) and instead had lived with Jonathon and Martha on the farm after the death of his wife Jessica? Furthermore, what if he'd gotten to meet and have an influence on his adoptive grandson. This is my take on what the Smallville universe could have been with just one tweak. So please, just bear with me as I work and see where this fic will go.

**A/N: **I'm really excited about the reviews guys. I don't wanna let you down. I know that for some of you, this is outside the norm for your usual tastes, and I'm going to try not to disappoint. As for the long wait, my trial of Word ran out. So I had to kick it to the curb and get Open Office. Without further adieu, the newest installment of Alternate Circumstances.

**August 1, 2001**

_Alarms blared loudly, sounding the impending doom that was certain to befall everyone. Earthquakes tossed the landscape and molten lava from the planet's crust bubbled to the surface. All around the people ran in blind panic, each searching for escape. Each person, save two were searching frantically for a way to save themselves from their fate. _

"_What if they don't love him?" The question was asked with equal parts fear for her child and resignation to her fate. The woman sighed, running a hand through her infant child's unruly dark curl. It was obviously a nervous habit of hers that seemed to sooth both her and the fussy child. _

"_They will Lara. They have it in them to be truly great." _

_The words sealed the life pod that housed their child and the survival of the last Kryptonion as the planet imploded, creating a black hole that nothing escaped, save the Life Pod that housed one Kal-El of Krypton. _

Clark sat up in his bed rigidly, his hand instinctively clinching around the piece of blue meteor rock that hung on a leather throng around his neck. In the early dawn light, the meteor rock glowed with a mystic light of its own. "Just a dream... Just another dream." His words were spoken in shuddering gasps as he swung his feet over the side of the bed and onto the cold floor.

"Just another freakishly real dream." His words upon waking had become a mantra as he looked at the clock on his bedside table. '_Six... Ugh. No more sleep after that.', _he mused to himself as he stood up, stretching his arms skyward and was rewarded with a _'Crack' _of his right shoulder popping. Hurriedly getting dressed, he walked downstairs and was greeted by his Grandpa Kent.

"Up before seven today Clark... I'd think you lived on a farm." The Eldest Kent joked as he motioned to the breakfast that he'd made when he'd first gotten up...Four hours ago. You see, the fact that Hiram was Seventy-Seven hadn't stopped the old man from doing things to "Earn his Keep", and to keep himself from feeling like he was in an "Invalid Home". It was clear where Jonathon got his stubbornness from.

"Thanks Grandpa." The words were spoken with the same bright smile that was reserved especially for the snowy-haired man in front of him. Helping himself to the eggs and bacon, the teen sat at the table and watched as his Grandfather looked out to the pasture with that same look of longing that he had every day that he saw something that he couldn't do.

"So... I'm trying out for the High School team after school today." The words were meant to distract his Grandpa from the fact that he couldn't do too much around the farm, and to soothe his jitters. "Clark, you'll make the team for sure. You've been playing football since you were old enough to hold a ball." Hiram's words were reassuring as he sat at the table clutching a cup of black coffee. "Just don't let them get you down... And be sure to tell your dad that I'm picking you up from practice so he doesn't have to knock off early."

"Sure Grandpa. I'll see you this afternoon, hopefully with a Crow's Jersey on.", he said with a cocky grin as he got up from the table, grabbed his bag, and proceeded to jog out the door and into the barn. "Boy got Jonathon's people skills." Hiram groused to himself, shaking his head and smiling as he washed Clark's plate and lost himself in thought.

"So Clark, you ready to turn in these slips?" Clark's best friend Pete Ross asked, wielding the yellow slip like it was the fabled Holy Grail. "Actually, I gave mine to Whitney earlier... He caught me at my locker and asked if I was trying out." Clark replied sheepishly as he watched Pete's face fall. "Way to leave me to face the Lion's den alone." he mumbled as he walked off towards the coach's office.

"Sorry buddy." Clark said, pulling on his helmet and running onto the field with the rest of the would-be football stars. After all, only a few freshmen would make the cut with the solid team that was returning from the previous year. At best, he'd have to play great to even make the bench.

Over the next two hours the youngest Kent was tackled, battered, and generally beat into a pulp, all in the name of football stardom. "Kent! Over here now!" The coach's voice boomed as Clark picked himself up after a particularly brutal collision.

Twenty minutes later, Clark was staring out over the Loeb bridge with his head hung dejectedly. "Come back next year... Fucking seriously?" He grumbled to himself and smacked the railing, wincing at the impact. "If I had been just a little faster off the snap I'd be wearing a Crow's jersey right now." He ranted, sighing to himself as he turned around to face the road.

It was just a typical day in Lowel County. Trucks hauling farming equipment went to and from wherever they were going. Nothing out of the ordinary ever happened in Smallville, but maybe things were going to change today? Clark had hoped so at the football tryouts. After all, football players were heroes here.

However, fate had another way of breaking the monotony of Smallville's atmosphere. The screeching of tires was just about all of the warning that young Clark Kent got before his world was changed forever. The Porche seemed to be moving in slow motion to him was it moved towards him, spelling death to the young farm boy from Kansas.

He had a split second to leap to the side, saving his life, but not his left leg. He missed the frontal impact, instead being clipped by the back end of the car as it slid sideways and flipped off of the bridge. Clark could feel the bones break in his leg and couldn't stifle the scream of pain that escaped his lips. "Son of a bitch!" The words flowed like a river from his lips as he picked himself up using the side of the bridge, looking over frantically for the runaway car that had ruined his sulking.

Hazel green-blue eyes peered over the railing in concern, waiting to see someone crawl out of the smoking wreckage that was the porche. Clark's world was spinning from the sheer pain of the broken limb, but his heart was beating as though he had an adrenaline overdose. What should he do? He couldn't let whoever was in that car drown. It would be several minutes until the Emergency Services arrived to help. That was too long for the man in the car to still be alive.

"Damn it." He grunted as he jumped through the hole in the bridge and hit the water with enough force to jar his leg. Tears gathered in his eyes as he dove underneath the water and frantically began to search for a way into the ruined car. It would seem that Fate had favored the Farmboy, because the windshield had shattered on impact. Swimming into the wreckage, he checked the bald man's pulse and cut him out of the seatbelt with his pocketknife.

Dragging the man out of the car, Clark struggled to shore and immediately began to do CPR. "Don't die Dammit... I've still gotta kill you for busting my leg." He grunted as he kept up the compressions, only stopping when he felt the bald man begin coughing and spitting water up. Sirens were wailing in the distance as Clark looked down at the man he'd just saved.

"You'll be fine now... Help's on the way." He reassured as he rolled over and laid on his back. His breathing was ragged, and now that the adrenaline was beginning to wear off, pain was shooting throughout his leg. "Feels like somebody's tapdancing on my femur..." He mumbled as he cradled his head, concentrating on Breathing and not over freaking out. He just couldn't bring himself to look down at his surely mangled leg.

"Where the hell is that Lunatic?" Hiram stormed throughout the halls of the Medical Center looking like the God of War himself with his white hair frazzled. He'd just been sitting with his grandson, and though Martha had been preaching peace for the past hour, he'd given Jonathon the slip at the vending machines and made his way towards the lunatic who mangled his Grandson's leg.

"Dad! Calm down, your heart..." Jonathon's voice sounded from over his right shoulder as he laid a hand on his father's shoulder. "Clark's going to be fine..." Anger was clear in his voice, and as much as he wanted to get a little father-son beatdown going in the room of one Alexander Luthor, he couldn't afford to let his dad get too excited, or he could have a heart attack. "Let's go sit with Clark. You know that he'll want to see you when he wakes up."

The old man's shoulders sagged in acquiescence and let himself be led back into Clark's room, sitting next to the bed where they had him sedated for the pain. His leg had been broken in three places, and the bone had pierced the skin in a place. It was amazing that he'd been able to stand the pain long enough to save Lex Luthor's life, but Clark had always had a way of finding a way to help someone, no matter the consequence to himself.

"Grandpa?" His Grandson's voice was weak, but it was better than not hearing it at all. "Yes, son?" Hiram's voice was shaky as he grasped Clark's forearm. "Don't be too mad at him... It was an accident." Clark said, smiling half-heartedly at his Grandfather. He was sedated, not deaf.

"If he'd slowed that buggy then neither one of you would be in this mess." Hiram groused, a defiant look in his eyes as he adjusted his glasses. "You're my only grandbaby Clark... I'm allowed to overreact. It's in the Grandparent's manual they give out. Didn't you know that?" He asked, giving a weak smile and looking at Clark.

"Hey Grandpa, where's my necklace?" Clark asked, feeling his chest for the one thing that he treasured most in this world. "I think they put it on the table there, Clark." Hiram said, gesturing to the roll-away table that was provided in the hospital rooms.

Reaching out and grabbing it, Clark placed it back on reverently, smiling at his grandpa. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost this... It was my first present, ever." He said, grabbing Hiram's hand and squeezing it.

"You know, I seem to recall getting something pretty great that day too." Hiram said, smiling and squeezing his grandson's hand too.

In the back of the room, Jonathon and Martha Kent watched the touching scene with a tear in their eye. They honestly hadn't expected the two to bond as they had, but in the end they should have expected it. They were just alike. If it weren't for the Spaceship in the cellar, she'd swear that Clark was a clone of Hiram, if only in mannerism.

"I love our family, Jonathon." Her words were soft, so as not to disturb the touching moment.

**A/N: I know that this isn't the greatest of second chapters, and to be honest it's just setting the series up. I don't want to disappoint any of you guys, but I know I probably did with this. D= Anyways... That's it until next time. **


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Alternate Circumstances

Author: Vincent-from-Zebulon

Disclaimer: I am not in any way affiliated with DC Comics, Smallville or anything else, I do not own the characters and am making no profit on this. The only thing I do own is THIS story which is mine.

Rating: The story moves between T (mostly) to M (for the occasional strong language and maybe romance if the fic goes that way).

Premise: What if Clark's grandfather hadn't died on December 22, 1980 (From the Smallville timeline) and instead had lived with Jonathon and Martha on the farm after the death of his wife Jessica? Furthermore, what if he'd gotten to meet and have an influence on his adoptive grandson. This is my take on what the Smallville universe could have been with just one tweak. So please, just bear with me as I work and see where this fic will go.

A/N: I'm terribly sorry for the long wait between chapters two and three. Life kicked me so hard in the nads that it addled my brains. But I think from now on I should be able to write with some Regularity.

**September 3****rd****, 2001**

In the month after the fateful incident on the Loeb Bridge Clark Kent's world was turned upside down and shaken like a snow globe. The Smallville Ledger had done a story on the heroics of one of Smalliville's own, interviewing Lex Luthor and somehow managing to get a picture of the wreckage. What ensued was chaos.

Indeed, when Clark returned to school a week after the accident he was greeted with applause. It seemed like overnight he'd went from middle rung on the social ladder to third from the top. Hell, Lana Lang had smiled at him! In some ways, despite the pain that he was constantly in because of his leg, he was happier than he'd ever been.

"Kent!" The voice rang like a bell in the parking lot.

Clark, deep in concentration as he was, turned around suddenly- almost losing his footing due to his crutches. Yeah, crutches were the only bad part about it all. "Oh… Hey Whitney." The young Kent's grin was warm.

"You need something?" The question hung in the air as Clark waited for a reply.

"I just wanted to see how the leg was- and to see if you were coming to my party this weekend? Heros drink free." The quarterback laughed and patted him on the shoulder.

"Actually, I've got this fishing trip with my Grandpa and Dad this weekend. We had to put it off because of the accident, but now that my leg's better- we're headed on a three day trip. Maybe next time?" Clark explained with a grin. He hated fishing, but his Grandfather and Father's constant bickering more than made up for anything he'd miss

"Sure Kent, have fun."

**September 8****th****, 2001**

"I ever tell you about the War?"

The question caught Clark off guard. Admittedly, He'd never asked his Grandfather much about his earlier years because it just seemed like it would be boring. After all, Kents never left the farm- right? "No sir, you were in the War?"

"Sure was, son. World War II. I was Seventeen when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, and like most boys my age I got all fired up to go avenge a bloody nose." Jonathon smiled at his father's words, trying to think of how many times he'd heard that sentence in his life. Countless thousands.

"Of course, my own father didn't want me to go… I was the only help he had at the time, but as much as I'm ashamed to admit it- I only hung around a few months extra before going to the Recruitment office in Topeka." Hiram's wry smile made Clark laugh. The dynamic seemed familiar for some reason.

"Anyways, I've been lots of places and seen a lot of things- but nothing will ever compare to the carnage I saw at Utah. But despite that, it's still one of the most inspiring things I've seen." Hiram's eyes were a million miles away as he absently cleaned his classes on his shirt, ignoring the tugging on his line.

"Sometimes, you have to be in Hell to see God's handiwork."

The words were mysterious. The reverant way that his Grandfather said it made him shudder.

For a while, all three generations of Kent men were lost in thoughts of gunfire and heroism. Finally, while fiddling with the amulet Hiram gave him, Clark broke the silence- "If you knew what you know now, would you still join?"

"Without a doubt." Grandfather Kent's voice was wistful, as if missing the days when he wasn't this invalid.

Jonathon took a moment to gather the words that came to mind for his son. "If good men stand idly by and do nothing while Evil tears us apart, then they are just as Evil… You see son, we all have a moral duty to do the right thing."

Clark nodded his agreement, hazel blue-green eyes shining.

**September 11****th****, 2001**

The peace of the fishing trip had been phenominal, yet it would turn out to be the calm in the storm. You see, Lex Luthor had been trying to get in touch with the Kents- and there was only so long you could ignore someone or have their gifts returned to them before they arrived in person to thank you. For Alexander Luthor, that period was three weeks.

When the Kents arrived home from their Camping trip, they came home to find a Porche sitting in the drive with a surprisingly handsome bald son of a billionare inside. "Clark!" Lex smiled at the young man as he steadied himself on the crutches. "I came by the thank you in person, since I can't seem to get in touch with you over the phone- and the mail service I've been using must be terrible out here."

The young Luthor's smile was disarming. He knew they'd been ignoring him, but for some reason it didn't phase him. Maybe he was just grateful?

Hiram had of course gotten upset, trying to discreetly reach into the bed of the truck for the axe handle that they kept there for situations that might arise- only to be foiled by Jonathon.

Smiling at his father's antics, Jonathon sighed. "There's nothing wrong with the mail service Mr. Luthor, we just believe that doing something good for someone is it's own reward." Clark's voice cut across, surprising both Jonathon and Hiram (who had been thinking they'd have to be the ones to explain to Clark).

"You see, that's why I like the people of Smallville. You don't get that sort of Hard Working mentality anywere else." Lex said, his tone sardonic. "But you see, I didn't come out here to offer you baubles or money. What I really came out here for was something much simpler."

Clark raised a brow. "What might that be?" He asked, genuinely curious.

"My gratitude… And friendship. You see Clark, you changed my life." Lex said, looking him dead in the eyes with a smile.

The months following Lex Luthor's offer of friendship passed by in a blur. It seemed that Clark's rescue of Lex had spurred some sort of chain reaction of events that just couldn't be explained. Apparently, the Green Meteor rocks were radioactive and had caused all sorts of freaks to rampage.

Luckily-at least in Clark's eyes, Sheriff Ethan seemed to be able to get his officers to where they needed to be on time. It made Clark really respect the men and women in uniform. After Lex's visit, the news about the Trade Center had arrived and spurred Clark's mind back to the fishing trip.

However, none of that had anything to do with life in Smallville, at least- not to do with Clark Kent yet.

Despite the weirdness and the stubbornness of his healing leg, Clark somehow managed to make it through his Freshman year relatively unscathed.

After all, tonight was the spring formal and he'd managed to not flunk out or die.

"Are you ready yet Clark? Lex'll be here any minute!" Martha's voice echoed up the stairs, causing both of the Elder Kent men to grunt at their respective places on the Couch.

Neither Hiram nor Jonathon had approved of Clark's willingness to overlook the fact that Lex had nearly killed him in that Porche, or the fact that he had actually become fast friends with the Billionare's son.

However, they did let him make the decision for himse.f- but they would not condone him accepting any gifts or otherwise taking advantage of such a friendship. The most that was acceptable was the rides that Lex would give Clark. And those were on the basis of "You kill my Son/Grandson in a wreck and you'll wish you'd never been born".

Overall? Life had been kind to Clark Kent over the past year.

True, he hadn't managed to get Lana to go to the dance with him, but he'd gotten one of his best friends Chloe to go with him.

"Perfect." Dazzling teeth became visible in the mirror as Clark smiled, hearing the car's horn outside.

A short while later, Clark was dancing with the beautiful Chloe Sullivan. "You know, this isn't as awkward as I would have thought." The farmboy's voice is right in her ear, making her shudder a bit with repressed feelings.

"Why would dancing with a friend ever be awkward?" She deflected, smiling and gazing up at the clueless Kansas farm boy who she'd developed a crush on.

"It's just… I've never really thought of you like that."

Chloe's smile fell almost imperceptibly. She knew he'd never return her interest. It just hurt to have him admit it so freely.

"Attention! Everyone gather in the Auditorium! There's been a twister sighting." The voice over the bullhorn cut through the chattering and in a moment the mood in the room flipped.

The only thought that went through Clark's mind was, _'Lana's out there!'_

After the realization, it was like Clark had entered a fog. He felt like he could do something, anything to help her. It wasn't teenaged bravado, or even the fact that he'd been crushing on the girl since before he could string together coherent sentences. It was deeper than that, in his soul- this knowledge that he should help her.

"Stay here Chloe."

Clark's voice startled her, and in her shock she didn't even think to grab his arm or raise a ruckus as he slipped out one of the auditorium's side doors and into the maelstrom.

The parking lot was hell. Wind whipped his suit jacket all around and he had to fight not to be bowled over by the wind. The far-off rumbling filled him with dread. It was coming from South of town near the Bus Station!

"Damn it!" he groaned, making his way to Pete's car. Granted, he was still a month away from his license, but these times called for desperate measures.

"Thanks Pete."

Clark lowered the visor, catching the keys and quickly starting the engine. For a moment, he sat there, steeling himself for whatever incredibly stupid thing he was about to do now. "Anything but another broken leg." He prayed aloud before peeling out of the parking lot.

The streets of Smallville were deserted- and for good reason. As he flipped through the radio looking for more news, he discovered that it wasn't one- but three twisters that had been spotted. From the way the meteorologist was talking, they were headed straight for the Bus Station.

Pushing Pete's car was beyond the usual Smallville speed limits; Clark arrived to a sight that stopped him cold. Whitney's truck at been crashed into a pretty deep ditch, and Lana was making her way frantically to the deepest part of the ditch, trying to use the deep depression as a shelter from the storm. "Lana!" his voice was carried away by the tempestuous wind.

He could see the twister now, and it was headed straight for them! Making a decision that he was sure to regret, he ran to the ditch, pulling her up. "There's an old farm about a quarter mile that way!" He pointed towards the field that was closest. "There's a storm shelter there that my dad told me about!"

Pulling her along, Clark felt as if the hands of God himself were pulling him back. The twister was getting closer, and the debris was really whipping around. There was an almighty crash behind them and Clark chanced a look back, seeing Pete's car upside down and mangled.

"We need to go faster!" he yelled, pulling her closer and setting a new groundbreaking speed.

"Not much further now." The sound of the storm was so deafening. He wasn't certain if he'd ever forget this moment. Despite the fear, the youngest Kent tried to put on a strong front for the obviously terrified girl who was clutching his hand like a lifeline. In a way, Clark supposed he was though.

Finally after five minutes that seemed like five hours, Clark wrenched the door of the abandoned storm shelter open and rushed them both in, having to fight to get the door shut again. "Holy fuck." The words were completely out of character for the Kent boy, who'd only ever felt that an occasional "Damn" was necessary.

"Clark, if we make it out of here alive, I'm going to give you the biggest kiss you've ever received." Lana's voice was trembling in shock.

"Sounds like something to look forward to." Kent joked, trying to alleviate the nervous tension that he felt. It was like something wasn't right.

In the end, it was destiny that brought Clark Kent to that abandoned Storm Cellar- Because nestled in the back, under the tarp that Jonathon Kent used to hide it, was his ship. And Jor-El was expecting his son.

**A/N: I'm not certain how I feel about it. Edited, because my line breaks disappeared and this just feels… More like Smallville. **


End file.
